


When We're Still Here

by ZeroNotHero



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Euthanasia, Gen, Hugs, Minor Character Death, Panicking Connor, Rip Sumo, The Dog Is Dead, To Be Edited, idek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-03
Updated: 2018-07-03
Packaged: 2019-06-01 17:32:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15148265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZeroNotHero/pseuds/ZeroNotHero
Summary: Connor can pinpoint the exact moment that it happens. He doesn't think he can forget.(AKA my headcannon on why and how Connor cried for the first time)





	When We're Still Here

_It was inevitable. He was getting on in years._

  
The St. Bernard looks up at them with big, glossy eyes. Hank can’t bring himself to do anything but watch, defeated, as Sumo whimpers. It’s horrible, a quiet yet low wail that gets punctuated by his nails catching the fabric on Connor’s jeans. Warm hands run through brown, wispy fur as the first needle goes in, and the difference is more than enough. He’s calmer when the last needle gets into his system.

  
Connor can pinpoint the exact moment that it happens. He doesn’t think he can forget.

  
Sumo’s tongue lolls from his maw in a cruel mockery of what once was, not even a few hours ago. His weight eases onto them full and heavy, but Connor looks away, swallowing thickly. The rest was too much, even for him. The faint whisper of voices slowly fade to nothing. Brown and white fills his vision with daunting clarity. There was nothing else to see.  
_It was inevitable. You couldn't do anything._

  
Sumo.  
Sumo wouldn’t walk again. Never bark or beg or greet them at the door in a lazy amble.  
Sumo would never move again.  
His hand rests where Sumo’s head had settled.  
It was inevitable, Connor knows that, Of course he knows that. Everything dies. Everyone dies.  
He will die.

  
_You couldn't possibly stop this._

_Click._

  
The door closes lightly, leaving them isolated in this cool, clinical room, all pristine whites and sterile grays. The sound barely processes before something within himself lurches violently, suddenly, forcing out air that isn’t really needed. His sensors are going haywire, fluttering and bursting at the seams, components singing in a cacophony of perplexity. The beating of his thirium pump is out of control, and he can’t think- can’t see-- everything is too loud, too sudden, too intense and vicious but suddenly Hank is there, pulling Connor into him, and he realizes that he’s shaking.

His eyes burn, and burn, no matter how much he blinks. His face feels wet. This is a new feeling. Scared and confused, raw and hurting in all kinds of unidentifiable ways. His system attempts to assess- but he knows it’s useless.  
He looks up at Hank, mouth working to speak against the tightening of his vocal processors but it’s futile because nothing comes out except for a small breath, and then another, but Hank is here, warm and surrounding. With him, everything is a little bit better. Even when Connor doesn’t know what’s happening to himself, Even when he heaves bodily, loud and ugly against his shirt that will without a doubt leave a mark when they’re done, Hank is here for all of it.

He's touching a hand to the back of Connor’s head, big and warm and comforting, rubbing his back in circles until Connor is heavy and subdued against him. He’s only sniffing now, eyes red and face wet when he pulls back to meet Hank’s eyes.

  
“I...I’m sorry,” He croaks, voice wavering, small, as he scrubs at his eyes. “I’m sorry for everything.”

  
“What?”

  
“I was so stupid. I thought that everything was so simple before. I always wondered why you would be so upset with me.”

  
“Connor-”

  
“I left you to die on that roof.”

  
“I-”

  
“And then I jeopardized your life again at the tower. I used to think of life as nothing but... but something in my programming to acknowledge. Something that was smaller than my mission and nothing else. But you’ve shown me everything now that my eyes have been opened. And I took so, _so_ many things for granted,” The burning was coming back again, “You could have died on that roof, and it would have been my fault, and I wouldn’t have even cared--”

  
_“Connor.”_

  
His mouth clicks shut, eyes cast downward in a show of guilt. “I’m sorry. It’s just...Why is he gone when we’re still here?”

  
“I don’t know, Connor.” Hank shakes his head. ” I don’t know.”

  
Of course Connor knew that it was simply the way things were. He was one of the most advanced prototypes ever created, made to conduct empathy and understanding to a complete science, but somehow he still feels like he wasn’t made to take things like this into account.

  
“It isn’t...fair,” Connor mutters as his tears overtake him again, but he’s like a faucet at this point, apologizing and talking and talking, and Hank is there the whole time and now he's crying too, Whispering to him that “Everything is okay, nothing is your fault, it’s going to be okay, son, don’t worry."

  
Everything dies. Everyone dies.  
He will die too, someday.

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry :C


End file.
